


Deliverance

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cameos, Implied Sexual Content, Mass Effect AU, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Other, Pre-Mass Effect 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: One of his face plates flare out again, and I catch another glimpse of sharp teeth. Since I'm closer now, I wonder how long it'd take him to chew me into bits.Rita sometimes tells me that isn't a healthy thing to wonder about people, but she's a Volus, so what does she know? She's lived in an environmental suit nearly her whole life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering if you have to know about anything Mass Effect to read this and enjoy it, the answer is no!

The Citadel is a massive city, floating in the vast void of space. Forever rotating so you can watch the skyline change with your home ward. See the Widow nebula at any angle you could dream of. I used to think that was exciting, but the novelty's work off.

It's home to the galactic Council, and it's supposed to represent hope for every species, everywhere. Mostly though it's just a symbol of how bureaucracy doesn't change no matter where you go. 

Hell, you could make the six-hundred year trip to Andromeda and still run into it. That's what being here's taught me. 

Maybe those people in places like Omega have got it right, and there's a right way to do things and a fast way and unless you're a three hundred year old Asari matriarch with no ambition or plenty of time to spare, you're gonna wanna go the fast way.

My name is Juno Steel, and I probably shouldn't have left Omega. It's the red tape, y'see? 

When I got here, nearly twenty years ago, I thought I could join up with C-Sec (Citadel Security, for those of you still guessing) and do some good. I've seen enough bad, after all.

Which brings us back to the red tape. Can't help people when they're shoving regs and paperwork down your throat, so I quit. I'm not the first person to have differences with the organization, after all.

And now I'm my own boss, mostly. Private detective is a better fit anyways.

A deep, deep breath comes in as the coms on my desk click on. The sound of a suit releasing enough ammonia for a sentence (or maybe closer to a quarter of a sentence) is often the herald of my doom. Rita, my assistant is a Volus with too much to say. "Mister Steel, we got a call! It's -" another hissing sound. " -From that Asari gal you really like! uh, what's her name again?-" A breath from the other side of the intercom. 

"Liara?" 

"Yeah, that one! she says one of her artifacts went missing before she really got to-" hisssss "Study it. And she needs you to get it back."

"Great, Rita. Just find me the coordinates and I'll find a transport out to the dig site."

Great only because doctor Liara T'Soni is, as the humans say, loaded. Or rather her mother is. A missing artifact won't be the most exciting job, after all, Liara tends to find a lot of the intact column and entire casket sort of artifacts rather than the shards of glassware or small jewels variety. 

Working for Liara is asking for trouble, though. She's a trouble magnet, if I wasn't already one on my own.

The things I do for work...

The intercom seems to suck in a breath. "I sent them to your coms, Mister Steel. Are you gonna need help opening them again?"

"No!" _Probably_. "I'm not one of those humans who can't work their own omnitool, Rita. I can find the directions." 

"Well, okay, if you say so."

I end up about five miles from the dig site before I realize I had my onmitool on my wrist upside down. I guess I can say at least this isn't one of those icy, wet places she usually digs, but the sun gets higher and higher in the sky and it still doesn't warn up. I've unfortunately gotten used to the constantly perfect temperatures inside my citadel office and apartment. 

Drell, like me (not that I usually like to group myself with the rest of my species) come from a warm planet, and unlike those Asari, or humans, or even those damned Salarians, we can't warm ourselves up. 

No, I won't die out here. But I am gonna call Liara up after this and complain about how cold it was. Teach her to regularly talk to me.

The dig site is deserted at a first glance. No signs of a scuffle that I can see. Rita tells me later that Liara's left for more important things. What 'More important things' are I find out even later.

There are only two tents left I haven't checked, and I'm not exactly feeling very much hope left for finding something that can at least point me in the direction of who would want a Prothean artifact. 

Since the whole thing two years ago where a Human colony was attacked for one of them, the whole thing has just sort of spiraled out of control, and the Council not acknowledging any of the crazy shit that happened as true hasn't exactly helped things. 

The first tent is just as empty as the other ones. I don't make it into the second one. A large figure steps out of the entrance, and I raise my gun.

It's something I'll regret later, it course. What isn't after all? Another fun Drell fact, we've got perfect memories. Can't forget a thing. It's a lot less useful and a lot more traumatic than it sounds. I regret a lot of things, and I'll never forget any of them, ever. Neat.

Anyways, I raise my gun up, and up, and up at this Turian's head. I'm not such a tall lady, and even for a Turian, this one is massive. He doesn't reach for his own weapon, just throws up his big, clawed hands in a universal gesture of surrender, and throws me the Turian version of a smile, where two if his mouth plates part to reveal a ridiculous amount of pinprick sharp teeth. It makes me notice the markings on his face. Or rather, lack of. Most Turians have clan markings, this one doesn't.

"Now let's not be too hasty about all of this. If you take that shot, you'll come to regret it."

I'm pretty sure I won't, but he's the only one at this dig site, so I'll give him a minute. "Sure thing, pal. Did you happen to see a Prothean artifact around here?" 

The smile widens. "It seems that you're in luck, we're both looking for the same object, and I know where it is." He reaches behind him, and my grip on my gun tightens, but if he's going to pull a gun on me, I'm going to shoot first, and I'm not going to miss. 

He ends up pulling out a datapad, so I lower my arm a little and watch him swipe and swipe on it for a minute, before holding it out. "See? Someone took it, but they must've dropped this. They're going to sell it to Cerberus, looks like."

Cerberus is a vehemently pro-human group that's been around for a solid twenty-five years, but it's really made leaps and bounds in the growth department in the last year or so. I guess to some extent I can't fault the way they hate us. Their first contact was the Turians firing at them for opening a mass relay. Blew up into a full out war, depending on which species you ask, before the Council finally decided to step in. 

"At least they'd make good money off of it. What the hell does Cerberus of all people want with it?"

"Well," he says, slipping the datapad back into his pocket. "It's supposed to be a beacon. That's what the records here say, anyways. Like the one that human Spectre found before that jumpstarted that whole Sovereign thing."

The news reports covering the whole thing were what the Council wanted them to be, vague and confusing. So either this guy was there in the Presidium when it all went down, or he was someone big. Turian military, maybe? 

"And you're trying to find the beacon too, huh? Doesn't that sound a little suspicious?" I've already lowered my gun into it's holster, despite my words. 

"I could say exactly the same for you. I've been contracted to find it and return it to its owner. So what's your explanation?"

"Private eye. Hired to do the same thing, huh? Wonder why doctor T'Soni didn't mention you." 

Something about this whole thing just isn't right. I'll go along with it, though until I've got something concrete. What's the worst that could happen? "She's had quite a bit on her mind, recently as I understand it. I don't see why we can't work together." 

That much is the truth, anyways. "Guess not. You got a way off this planet? Illium is a long way from here." 

He jerks his head into an approximation of a nod. "Certainly, Detective. If we hurry, we might not even have to chase down Cerberus, just the mercs." 

Small victories. I'm an excellent shot, but so are Cerberus. 

"I didn't catch your name," I say as he leads me about a mile away, towards his small ship. It's a newer model, so he's got to have money. Or credit for a loan. A lot of credit. 

Or he stole it.

"My name is Nureyev. And yours?"

"Juno. Juno Steel."

One of his face plates flare out again, and I catch another glimpse of sharp teeth. Since I'm closer now, I wonder how long it'd take him to chew me into bits. 

Rita sometimes tells me that isn't a healthy thing to wonder about people, but she's a Volus, so what does she know? She's lived in an environmental suit nearly her whole life.

"Juno," he says, and I've got the urge to turn off my translator to see what it sounds like in his native language. "That doesn't seem to be a typical Drell name."

I can't help but glower at him. My name isn't a sore spot, exactly but it comes close enough. "And Nureyev isn't all that Turian, but you didn't see me bringing it up." 

"I suppose that it isn't. I didn't mean to be rude, I just meant that it seems that you're all around a little unconventional for one of your kind."

He turns towards me for a second, and I'm about to snap something about how what color my scales happen to be is none of his business, but we've reached his ship, and Nureyev opens the hatch under it and lightly sighs. "Home sweet home. Juno, welcome to the Digeris." 


	2. Chapter 2

The 'Digeris' is, as expected, nothing special. A Turian craft, armed to the teeth but comfortable looking inside.

Cloths hang on lines strung across from one side of the ship to the other, making what I assume are supposed to be separate rooms, but with how sheer some of them are, it's up for debate. The place is surprisingly...

_Cozy_, maybe. Too cozy for being named for the bloodbath that was Digeris, it's battle namesake. Maybe it's supposed to be ironic, but to be honest? I've got no clue. 

I don't know all that much about Nureyev, after all. Just guesses. Just ideas about the way he walks, upright and prissy and _well-aware _of most other species thoughts on Turians tiny waists and large hips, and the way they tend to swagger or sway a little as they walk.

Nureyev slides into the pilots chair and starts the Digeris up. He pats the seat next to him, and he makes a little self-satisfied sound when I sit down beside him. Out of habit, I check for my blaster at my side, still there. And then I remember that we're about to take off, very, very fast into the atmosphere. 

Yeah, yeah. I know. I live on a massive space station, and I can't stand heights. I see how this looks. Even worse, I have to at least close my eyes whenever taking off. Go ahead, make fun of me, get it all off your chest.

"Do you have a bathroom on this thing?" I manage to croak out, and he points a gloved hand to the back of the ship. 

So I sort of hobble back there and try to ignore the sound of the engine and the fact that we'll be off of solid ground sooner rather than later. 

I do my hyperventilating thing in the bathroom for a minute, watch my life flash before my eyes at the slightest jerk upwards I actually feel (literally, because...Y'know. Drell) and then I shake my wrist a few times to try to turn on my omnitool. 

That's what Rita does, but really thinking about it, maybe that's a weird thing she rigged hers to do. I try pushing one of the buttons on the side, and the blade shoots out without warning. I cut off a shout and hit the _other_ button, which pulls up my contacts. Poor design choce, if you ask me, but what do I know, right?

Right there at the first of the list is Rita, and I call her up. She answers before the thing can even make a rubling sound once. "Heyah, Mister Steel," her suit makes its loud whooshing noise, but not louder than my shushing her. 

"Shh! No talking-"

"Why!" _Woosh_. "Oh gosh, are you in trouble?" 

I shake my head. "No, but I need you to do something for me. Find anything you can on a Turian called Nureyev, and if you can't, try and get a hold of Liara to ask her. He doesn't have any clan markings, if that helps. Just send me the information if you find anything, don't call." 

Her little hologram rising from my wrist gives me a nod and a wheeze, and I hang up.

The ship settles from the light jerking, and I give my stomach a minute to settle before walking back out to the cockpit, where Nureyev is making weird humming sounds. _Turians_. Ugh.

I lean into his chair and pretend to be interested in looking out the window. I am definitely not looking out the window, I don't want to vomit.

"You ever been to Illium?" I ask.

He turns to face me and one of his faceplates shoot up into an expression I can't decipher. "Once or twice, yes. What about you?"

"Yeah, I've done a few jobs over there. Illium isn't exactly my sort of place." Not sketchy enough for that. "Didn't know Cerberus had a foothold over there, but maybe that's the point." 

"I could name see that. Neutral meeting spot? They wouldn't get very far on a place in the Terminus system, with so many Batarian and Turian mercenaries that still want to rip apart every human they see. And the mercenaries that they've hired to bring them the beacon likely wouldn't look too out of place. Maybe they're a primarily Asari and Human group?"

"Doesn't matter all that much to me I guess," I tell him. "Shoot any of them in the face, they'll fall down and I'll get the job done." 

My translator doesn't pick up any words for a second, just a warm, deep rumble, but he smiles again. "And here I was thinking you were a detective, not a merc." 

Oh, nevermind, I get what that sound was. He thinks he's funny. "I am, but I'm not just going to sit behind a crate and wave my licence around and hope they stop shooting me."

He purrs again, and I'm suddenly less sure of its translation."Of course not. Why, youre in luck. You can distract them with a couple warning shots, and I'll come up behind and-" He makes a sort of slicing motion with one of his gloves hands, which would be much, much more threatening if I wasn't preoccupied watching his eyes.

I look for too long, because he blinks deliberately and meets my gaze. "Detective? Are you paying attention?"

"Sure, Nureyev. Plan of attack against a gaggle of mercs."

He hums in that duel-toned voice and nods. "Alright. I was only making sure. You did seem to be awfully busy looking, after all. I know Turians generally aren't considered attractive by your kind, but you certainly were _observing_, detective Steel. Much more than someone who likely sees my kind on a regular basis."

"Your eyes," I tell him. It comes out like a greased Hanar in a pet-door. That is to say, with no other planning behind it. It just happens, so I roll with it. "You part of the Arterius line? Don't think I've ever seen that color outside vids from the relay thing. First contact war, whatever."

His two mandibles draw up right to the sides of his head, and his eyes dart towards the vast void of space. "No clue, actually. If you hadn't noticed, I'm-I suppose it wouldn't mean much to an outsider, but I don't have a 'line'. Besides, I'd imagine most members of the Arterius line are laying low."

Couldn't argue with that one. Although, he was more or less laying low, too and the involvement of the Prothean beacon didn't give me much hope, but I stayed quiet after that and settled myself on a plush seat behind the cockpit.

To recap, pretty Turian shows up at _my_ crime scene, evidence in tow. That could be excused, but then he says he's been sent by Liara, who'd already hired me, and she's only like, a hundred, which is practically a baby by Asari standards so maybe she was just being absentminded but I don't think so. And something about him just rubs me the wrong way.

I wish Rita would hurry up and get me something on this guy. Anything, even.

Thankfully I doze off just enough to miss the way the shop lands, but not enough to let Nureyev get the drop on me.

"Detective Steel, do wake up, we've a deal to stop!"

He makes it sound so urgent. I pull myself up out of the comfy alien chair and check again for my pistol. It's becoming a nervous tic. "Great. Ha and me that datapad again." He does, so I get another look, but don't see anything out of place. "Docking bay three, let's go."

As usual, it seems like the whole planet is in as big of a hurry was we are, so a seven foot tall Turian dragging a tiny Drell around by his wrist isn't that much of an odd sight.

The docking bay is across a big hall and up some stairs, and about as far away from the bustling market as you can get. We push through some big crowds at first but once we get to the docking bay there's no one.

...No one at all.

"What the hell?!" I throw my hands up. "We couldn't have possibly beat them here."

Nureyev paces around me for a second, before stiffening. "We _didn't_-Juno, get down!" His eyes widen and I turn, and start to duck.

I'm not quick enough. An Asari uncloaks out of nowhere right in front of me and charges, powered by her unnatural biotic strength.

And then I'm out like a light.

When I finally come to, my head pounds hard enough that I have to work to get my eyes open. It's dark, but not dark enough that I can't see what's in front of me.

The beacon. It's huge.

I mean, I knew it would be pretty big. But this pillar thing is massive, and glowing. And I really, really just want to touch it.

_No!_

I don't want to touch the giant, glowing artifact, that's pounding in time with my head and calling my name. I'm a dumbass, sure, but not that much of a dumbass.

Besides, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I'm tied to a chair, which upon further inspection, is tied to another chair, where a Turian sits, unconscious.

"Nureyev!" I whisper, and try to nudge him into consciousness. He doesn't stir, and I scowl.

What else do I do? I opt to give up for a minute and lean back and just start thinking.

That's when I hear mercenaries talking. And sit still long enough to feel the slight telltale jerk of a spaceship. We're not on Illium anymore.

"Damn Cerberus," one of them says. "Changing plans on us last second. This was supposed to be easy, grab the beacon, sell it to them, get off of Omega forever. And what now, we're going back?"

"Hey, I don't like it any more than you do, but look at it this way-" Something beeps faintly in the background. "Wait what's that?"

"That Drell we picked up had an omnitool" the first one says. "Go see what it says. Maybe he's someone important and Cerberus will pay us to get rid of him."

It's silent for a moment, and then the merc laughs. "You're not gonna believe this. "

"What!"

"The Drell's no one special, but his Turian friend?"

I don't catch the rest of what they're about to say because both chairs rock for a second with a strength I couldn't manage, and one of my arms is suddenly a little looser. "Juno," Nureyev says, sounding panicked. He's trying to hide it too. What didn't he want me to hear? "My pocket, now!"

"What?! Isn't it a little soon for that?"

"Now is not the time for jokes, detective. My tunic pocket, there's a knife. Use it to get these ropes off, quickly."

Sure enough, after a little bit of uncomfortable digging I find the knife with my loose hand and cut myself free. And then I start to give him a very stern lecture about keeping secrets from the person who has your back in a dangerous situation, and I'm fairly certain he's growling at me, but I don't get to go on for very long, because the beacon is still calling me.

And I turn around, and touch it, despite my better judgement, and the fact that Nureyev is screaming at me not to, and the two mercenaries have burst in by now.

The beacon shatters under my touch, and my last coherent thought I'd used to wonder what I'm gonna tell Liara this time.


	3. Chapter 3

In the moment, I don't know what I see exactly, with the beacon. Because yeah, I saw something, but mostly I just _felt_. 

It's like getting part of a puzzle, almost. Except along with about a quarter of the puzzle you get a free spine re-arrangement, too.

I usually have an overlying feeling of dread and hopelessness, but I'm met with the idea that I might not know what either of those things feel like, touching that beacon. It's overwhelming, and I just want to run farther away than I have in my whole life, which is pretty damn far.

I get the unmistakable impression that something bad and unstoppable is coming but I do my best to push that feeling to the back of my mind for now, even totally engulfed in this thing, I'm aware that things probably aren't going well outside of what that it's showing me.

I'm not out for very long, at least I don't _think_ I am.

Not that it ends up mattering much. I'm not in any danger, with exactly two mercs laying dead on the floor, and my head laying in the lap of a Turian. 

I'm about to spit out what I think is a pretty good one-liner when Nureyev bares every single one of his (_very, very many_) sharp teeth at me, and growls. "Juno Steel, you scaly idiot!"

He's worried, though. Trying to sound angry, look angry, and completely failing. I'm not even mad about the jab at my complexion.

"What?! I mean, it's not like I had a choice! It was calling me!"

His scowl falters as he looks down at me. I consider telling him that he is bony, and hard, and not at all fun to lay on, but decide not to push it. It's not that bad, after all. Wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Calling you?" He stops and shakes his head. "No, no. We'll worry about that later, after we've taken out the rest of the mercenaries and get you to a doctor."

"No!" I try to sit up, decide that's a terrible idea, and up back on Nureyev's lap. "I mean, I want answers first. Who the hell are you, and why would Cerberus pay to have you dead?"

"Cerberus would likely pay to have most non humans exterminated." He fixes me with a glare, so I glare back. "Fine. Likely they would want me dead because I'm a Spectre, and one who has worked especially hard to make their operations difficult."

Spectre. Huh. 

"Thought the Council wasn't supposed to be involved with things like Cerberus."

"They technically aren't. Although things have loosened up with the addition of a Human Council member, I'm not likely to become a household name anytime soon." He sounds like that's a good thing. "Does that satisfy you, Juno?"

I manage to nod, and Nureyev-_Spectre_ Nureyev, which I absolutely am going to refuse to call him-helps me up. 

I hobble to one of the dead mercs and take their weapon. Dunno what it is, exactly, other than being of Asari make, but it'll work. There's a new thermal clip in it, even. 

Someone rams their sharp shoulder into my squishy one. "Oh no. I don't think so. You've been charged by a Vanguard and then knocked out by an ancient artifact that we know next to nothing about. You're going to sit down and _I'm_ going to clear the ship."

I scowl at him. "Like hell I am. I know you think you're all high and mighty, working for the Council, but this is still my job."

He makes an annoyed noise. "I couldn't live with myself if you managed to get killed after all of this. Fine, but you will see a doctor once we dock on Omega."

"You're paying."

"Of course I am, any way I can inconvenience the Council, especially through spending their credits. Tell you what, Juno. I'll buy you dinner, too and you can send Ms. T'soni to me if she doesn't pay you. We'll call any trouble evened and over with."

It's not really something I have to think about. I hate Omega, but more time spend figuring out Nureyev outweighs my lack of desire to go back. "Deal. Let's get to it, then." 

The ship has two floors, the main one and then engineering, which is where they tried us up. We search around, but there's nothing identifying the merc group as one of Omega's main ones. 

The second floor is where we meet the next three mercs, and Nureyev flashes me a grin before just...disappearing. One falls over, screaming but the other two can't get off a shot or even figure out what happened to their colleague before I take two shots and at fall over, too. 

Nureyev reappears behind where they just were, trying to control his surprised expression. "_My_, detective. Lovely work."

"Oh, we're back to detective, now?"

I watch the hard plates and the soft skin between them on his throat shift. Spectres are used to working alone, and I remind myself of that before marching forward and staring my assault on the mercenaries again. 

An Asari biotic throws their shields up, and starts glowing like something big is going to happen. I panic for a second before she freezes and her eyes widen. The shields fall and when she falls I can see the knife sticking out of her spine.

We're left in the cockpit, headed towards Omega, both panting and me coming off the worst adrenaline thing I've dealt with in a week.

"We make a pretty good team, Nureyev." 

"We do, don't we?" He's quiet for a second. "Have you ever considered a change in career? It wouldn't be official, if course, given that you're a Drell, but I'd certainly appreciate a partner."

I snort. "No thanks. I'm pretty happy with my career, and my apartment. I wouldn't wanna move around all the time like you do. 

"You're pretty willing to get saddled up with someone you just met."

He grins at me. "I told you, I find you fascinating."

I believe him.

Omega never changes. Maybe there's a few new neon lights pointing the way to Afterlife than there used to be, but I don't notice. I've spent most of my life on this asteroid, before getting the right idea and getting out.

I keep telling Nureyev that I don't need help walking to a clinic, but he keeps insisting and somehow we end up walking with our arms linked and leaning on each other, so maybe he's more beat up than he's letting on. 

Nureyev knows the doctor, a Salarian that would give Rita a run for her money is she didn't have to breath in her suit. He talks fast, and sort of loud, but he does a good job, and tells me I probably don't die from my concussion. 

He's got dozen other patients, though so we're not in there very long. And then we head to Afterlife, which has never, ever been my sort of place even when I was working for the owner.

Oh, stars. What if Aria sees me? Who am I kidding, I walked in here with a Spectre after five years. She's definitely seen me. 

In fact, a Batarian meets us at the door. "Got a table for you all ready. Follow me." It's not a choice. 

Nureyev leans against me, more and purrs dramtically. "Oh, Juno dear, isn't the service here just sublime?" 

I snort, even with the Batarian giving me a death glare with every single one of his eyes. 

The table is at the back of Afterlife, where the pounding bass of the music isn't quite as loud. There's already someone sitting there. 

Like I said-of course Aria knows. Aria T'Loak knows everything that happens on Omega, which is probably why she took me in after...everything.

"Well if it isn't just the person I was hoping to see," she says as we slide into our seats. I open my mouth. "Not you, Juno. Although, don't get me wrong, I can't wait to hear how both of you met. But you, Nureyev, you're very hard to track down."

I watch the neon lights flash on his plates as he grins. "Thank you."

"Ha." The Asari doesn't sound amused. "I know I talked to you about our little Cerberus problem last time you were here, but I can't afford you driving them out this time."

Aria wants them here? "Can't imagine that's real good for business," I tell her.

Nureyev nods, but she just rolls her eyes at me. "And that's why you're the muscle and not the brains, Juno. A source of mine says they're rebuilding Commander Shepard, if you must know. And I want them on my side when things go to shit. Because they _will_ go to shit, and so far they're the only ones who have been willing to do anything about it. So you're going to back off, Nureyev, and I'm going to make allies in high places."

He nods again, and Aria takes that as her cue to leave, but not without turning to look at me. "You going to be around for a while, Juno?"

"Hell no, I'm having dinner and leaving again."

"I thought so, but figured I'd ask. Don't have anybody quite as good as you used to be. Miss the old team." I'm pretty sure she just misses one member of the old team, but that's not my business. 

When she's gone, Nureyev smiles at me again. "You worked for Aria, and she let you leave? Perhaps her judgement _is_ lapsing in her old age."

I manage an eye roll. Those are getting plenty of exercise today. "I wasn't in debt or anything. Speak for youself, though. Sounds like you owe her a couple of favors you're trying to get rid of."

"Guilty as charged. What do you want to eat?"

I let him change the subject, but only because I've been around long enough to know that debts to one Aria T'Loak don't usually make great dinner conversation topics. 

So we get food and drinks and talk. At first it's serious, about the beacon, and how they don't have much by way of knowledge about them, but we both end up deciding that for now it's best if I stay out of the minefield that is intergalactic politics.

And then it turns. He tries to ask me about my ties to Omega, so I give him a few cryptic one-liners and he does the same when I ask him about how he got to be a Spectre.

Then we talk about inane things for a while, which I like better. I like talking about being a detective, and he likes to listen. "Juno?"

"Hmm?"

We might both be a little tipsy at this point. "I've been wondering, is it true, what they say about Drell?"

I rest my elbows on the table and look up at his pretty eyes. "Depends. What do they say?"

"Your skin...does it...?"

Oh. Oh yeah, I know what he's talking about. That's one way to come onto me, ask if you can get high from, _well_. "Yeah. Why'd you want to know?" 

"Just curious, I suppose."

He doesn't sound _just curious_, so I decide to push. "I could...you could-"

"_Yes_. I mean, if you'd like to, Juno. I know it wouldn't be an easy act between our rather different figures, but for you..."

Neither of us can seem to form coherent sentences anymore, and that's without any hallucinogen venom that my skin secretes. I nod, though. We barely make it back to the ship. He's warm and loving in a way that feels like it could be home, and it terrifies me.

And I want more of him, which might be worse.

I wake up first, stirred by the perfect recollection of every memory that proves what a bad idea last night was, _good_ or not. I like Nureyev, but it's only a matter of time before something happens.

There's nowhere else to go, so I pace the ship, avoiding him until we land on the Citadel, in Zakera Ward.

Nureyev walks me from the landing pad to the door of my office, and we both linger there for a second. 

"Look me up sometime, won't you? I certainly wouldn't mind having some of your excellent sharpshooting to back me up. "

"Spectres work alone," I remind him, shuffling awkwardly. "But same. You ever need a private eye..."

"We do. I like that. _Liked_ that. You make me wonder, Juno Steel..." He flashes a wide grin. "Keep out of trouble."

"I won't."

"I know." 

He turns and walks away, and I watch him disappear into the crowds. I dunno if I'll ever see Spectre Nureyev again. I think I want to, but I'm not sure about that, either. 

And Liara, well...No one can get in contact with her (even Rita) for a few months, and when we do manage it, she tells me the same thing that Aria had said. Commander Shepard's back, human colonies are disappearing one by one.

I ask her about Nureyev, and she says she can't find much. Just that he was born on Palaven, the Turian homeworld, and appointed a Spectre a decade and a half ago. No more than Rita could tell me, either.

I wonder what he was hiding from me. What do you have to do to hide your entire background from the Shadowbroker and Rita? 

Maybe I don't want to know.

Maybe I'm happier with the way he looks in my (frequently revisited) memories, grinning like an idiot, or yelling at me for touching the beacon, or his head thrown back and making the prettiest duel-toned noises. 

Spectres work alone, well, so does Juno Steel, Drell detective. And maybe that's for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a solid ten minutes to myself today, and decided to finish this! Thanks to everyone who's been readi, I hope you've enjoyed this little niche au as much as I did!  
And just for the record, were I to cast the entirety of the crime crew as Mass Effect aliens:  
Rita- Volus  
Jet- Krogan  
Buddy- Asari  
Juno- Drell  
Vespa- Turian  
Peter- Turian

**Author's Note:**

> Just a couple fun facts for those of you not familiar with the source material:
> 
> There are a solid four named Drell, and they vary in color from green, to blue, to just a straight up rainbow. Since Nureyev was about to say something about his color, I'm going to go with Juno is like...purple. 
> 
> Turians? Spiky and hot birds. Sharp teeth. Definitely Peter.
> 
> Digeris was the most bloody battle in recorded Turian history. Against the gigantic Krogan. Nureyev probably likes the irony. 
> 
> Doctor Liara T'Soni's 'More important things' is either Shadowbroker work or finding her best friend/lovers body and giving them to Cerberus to revive. We'll go with the latter, with the time frame I'm thinking of. Plus, Rita would probably become the Shadowbroker if she were in Mass Effect. Just sayin.


End file.
